Its The Little Things
by Sarenaria
Summary: Sam and Dean's seemingly generic case takes a somewhat unexpected turn when they realize it might be the work of angels, so they turn to one of their most trusted friends for help. However, when Dean's old tease 'baby in a trenchcoat' is taken to a whole new, literal level. The Winchesters search for a way to save their best friend as his borrowed time fades away.


_**NOW**_

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_Black wings were plastered against the cement floor, light dying from the angel's eyes. The silver sword rested beside the body's hand, blade pointing at an angle toward it, signifying the force at which it had been thrown. The crimson that leaked from the vessel's open cut drenched his overcoat and bled onto Deans jacket and hands as he frantically searched for any chance he could have survived._

_This wasnt how it was supposed to end up. No. It was not that it was not supposed to, it was that it simply couldn't have. It just didn't happen. And yet there the angel was, spreadeagled ungracefully upon the floor, dust still displaced from the impact of which he fell._

_The merciless figure which stood a few feet away did not make a move to Dean's pain and the fact that Castiel couldn't have died. It was too much. First his parents, then Ellen and Jo...now this?_

_"He'll be back you sick son of a bitch. Mark my words," Dean whispered, voice barely audible as he knelt beside his long time friend and family. "He always is."_

_The irritatingly calm voice spoke out as the grin leapt on his lips. "Not this time, Dean. You need to accept Cas's fate. Unless, of course..." The figure's grin broadened considerably, stretching insanely across a pale face lined with scars from the struggle._

_Dean turned back to his fallen comrade, fingers curling around the dirty, dust-coated collar. "Come on Cas...Please...Cas? Just wake up," he hissed into the fallen angel's ear, knowing full well the enemy would not attack him yet. He pulled the body forward, staring into the icy blue eyes as they stared into oblivion. Why wouldn't Castiel look at him? Just once more... Shower him with his ignorance of the human customs and world, with his permanently confused expression and calm, leveled voice. _

_Dean uselessly shook his friend, feeling tears start at the corners of his eyes, swimming in his eyelids, but never truly spilling. There was no need to be strong now, but the tears would never fall because this is the life he knew. It was mandatory and they would not fall now.  
_

_He knew that he only had one choice from the start. What was he doing, thinking that there could possibly be another option?_

_"So, Dean, what will it be?" Sam Winchester whispered from the shadows._

_Castiel's body hit the ground as Dean stood, raising himself to his full height, facing the unfamiliar man who he had known all his life before him. His reply was spoken in a growl of a whisper, the hatred and grief spilling from the edges of his words. The impact of his low-toned voice could not be matched by the same words spoken in a shout; nothing else could ever contain his true feelings this accurately. And so, he spoke the answer that could potentially end his life and everyone else around him..._

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_**6 Hours Before NOW**_

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**Chapter 1: Overkill on the Weather**

Before the day could succumb into darkness in both manners of speaking, it was the kind of day that made everyone want to rip their skin off and hang out on the sofa, pouring ice-cold lemon-aid all over their bones while they basked in the arctic. Despite the fact that Sam and Dean Winchester were two very special snowflakes, the heat, as well, really put a damper on the whole 'saving the world from monsters' thing they had going on.

Sam stepped into the motel room and instantly glared over at his older brother. Dean was stretched down in the motel room's bed, shirtless, one arm pulled behind his head, the other resting on the scathing heat of the laptop perched on his thighs. He was oblivious to his brother's arrival, as his attention was fixated on the screen of the computer; focusing intently on this and purely this, and he looked very, what's the word, intense? Intelligent?, from this angle.

Except for the fact he was watching anime porn, but that's okay. Things like that happen sometimes, and Sam knew this full well. Despite the fact that they had agreed that Dean would do some research while Sam went to the store to get some breakfast for himself and his brother, Sam couldn't help but chuckle as he set down his diet coke and bagel on a cheap, wooden table pushed up against the crème-colored walls.

Sam pulled himself up to his full height and cleared his throat, crossing his arms and looming menacingly over Dean. "Dean?"

Dean's head shot up from the screen, eyes suddenly widening for a moment, before he sighed and let his head fall back onto the pillow. He said, exasperated, "Damn it, Sammy, don't do that."

Covering up his amusement, (and failing), Sam made his baby-sweet voice nice and deep and evil for Dean, and said, "I told you we need to do some research. We're working a case, you know."

"You know what? Screw research. It's too hot for this," Dean shut the laptop and begrudgingly shoved it onto the small desk that was conveniently directly beside him.

"Unlike you," Sam teased, pulling one of Dean's tee-shirts from the closet and chucking it at him. "And put a shirt on."

As Sam turned away with his bemused grin as Dean protested while tugging his shirt on, "Why do you do this to me, Sam? It's freakin' hot."

Sam grabbed the breakfast bag and tossed it beside Dean, rolling his eyes. "But we're still working a case. Just because you're too lazy to get out of bed, doesn't mean the ghost or monster behind all this is, man."

Dean moodily dug around in the paper sack at Sam's words and extracted the perfect circle-shaped wheat treat with an impeccable hole drilled into the center, as if crafted by angels up in heaven.

Except that was a joke, because the angels probably would much rather drill a hole in Sam and Dean's faces than a stupid piece of bread, but the brilliant narrator of this tale digresses.

Sam pulled the laptop from beside Dean as he hungrily wolfed down the dry, tasteless mass of despair one would label _bread _and pulled the screen back open.

"Dude, before you shut down my computer, at least close your cartoons," Sam said, annoyed, x'ing out the tabs irrelevant to the case. But, to Sam's satisfaction, he realized that Dean at least _attempted _to research this peculiar case, as a tab was opened to a website featuring a creature called, a Pontianak

"Hey, I heard of those Pontianaks," Sam said, quickly shifting his attention to this tab and skimming over the information. "But I dunno if this case has anything to do with it, though. I mean, these are similar women in white, aren't they?"

"Except," Dean pointed out, "they seduce guys to eat their vital organs," he said mock-enthusiastically, smirking at the moderately disgusted expression that sprouted on Sam's face. "Thanks Dean," Sam said with a sarcastic smile, "I needed to know that."

"My pleasure, man," Dean cackled, once again making himself comfortable by gnawing his way through the doughy treat. It was a wonder he didn't eat his hands off, keeping in mind the impressive speed at which he was eating.

"Yeah, not exactly our kind of thing," Sam said, matter-of-factly, clicking on the back-arrow to redirect him to the previous page. "We're looking for something that can reverse time."

"Well, I'm sure if they put their mind to it, those S.O.B Pontianaks could reverse time too," Dean said through a mouthful of bread.

"Come on Dean, let's get serious," Sam protested, irritation suddenly biting at him like a swarm of mosquitoes.

Dean groaned in agitation and said, "Come on Sammy, they aren't dying yet. Looks to me like whatever's turning people that are about to die into bratty little toddlers hasn't gone the other way yet. We still have some time to—"

"_Yet,_" Sam echoed, running his arm down his forehead, displacing the sticky sweat that beaded on his forehead, "that's the key word. What if he makes adults into, like, dead dust piles or something? You know, like that case with the game, remember? Where you play for years?"

"But I mean, Sammy look. It's like they're doing these poor, dying bastards a favor." Dean tried to convince his little brother to please work the case some other time, because it was just too hot, but he knew it was fruitless.

Sam decided to ignore Dean, as he was being quite disagreeable today. Well, anyone who had gone through the hell that Dean went through would be, Sam knew, but it still didn't stop him from being quite tired of Dean's shenanigans.

Knowing this was a battle Dean was sure to lose, he slumped back onto the bed to embrace the last few moments that he was not forced to move in this devastating heat. As his mind began to wander, Dean thought about how funny it would be if Cas came along in this weather, what with his nearly ankle-length overcoat billowing in the decay of poor, tortured people who could not stand this weather. Did angels even feel heat? He didn't have the patience to dwell upon this too much longer.

Deciding that contribution would make his little brother happier, he sighed, "Hey, why don't we go check out the witnesses? Let's see what they've got to say."

Sam, at this moment, suddenly empathized with Dean's lack of researching and abundance of anime, because he really, just as well, had no patience whatsoever to research some thing that might turn out to be fake after all.

"Yeah, alright," Sam agreed, slamming the top of the laptop into its keyboard with the force of someone getting rid of something disgusting.

Sam stood up from the bed, allowing it to creek beneath himself, and stretched out his arms. My god, it was so hot today.

"And let's get some pie afterwards, what do you say?" Dean added, as if this would act as compensation for having to go outside in this sort of heat.

Sam chuckled away his stress that derived from the annoyingly hot day and said, "Yeah, fine, Dean."

"It's probably nothing, anyway," Dean said, sitting upright at last and stretching out in welcome to the sunlight lazily drifting through the window in sheets of brightness. "We'll be done before nightfall."

Oh, they would be. Just not in the sense Dean described.

**End of Chapter One. **

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**Author's Rambles: **

**Hello, welcome to my first fanfiction. Please enjoy your stay as I attempt to retell a story that's been swimming around in my mind. If I mess up some details in canon, there is no need for you to start slaughtering me viciously, with words or otherwise. I ask this because this _is _mostly based on canon and stuff, but that also means that sorry, we won't be having any boyfriend snogging or the dilly do (though, I wont disagree that the relationship between Dean and Castiel or Sam and Dean is debatable, depending on what ship floats your boat!). But, that doesn't mean I wont slip in a boatload bucket full of I mean a little affection between these awesome boys. This probably will end up being quite a few chapters, so sit tight for the good stuff that I'm planning to put in reaaaaaal soon. :)**


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